“Being wrong is part of what it is to be a person”
– Hank Green
I stumbled upon Hank’s video while binge-watching his channel. He talks about the permanent scar that mispronouncing the word “facade” carved into him.[watch the video, great content, great channel]
Consequently, I decided to unburden myself and gradually unchain an abundance of my embarrassing stories on this blog.
However, this one is more of a flinching confession:
I don’t know how to type.[internal shrieks]
Yes, I can press some keys and exude sequences of letters that give birth to words, and you can consume the meaning. However, I am incapable of performing a proper execution of typing, with each finger assigned to a specific key.
I have thrown myself into many fits and episodes of teaching my fingers how to coherently cooperate. But they have been molded into rebellion many years ago, change is hopeless.
After it dawned on me that my hand-finger coordination is being impossible, I got sucked into a vicious cycle of presuming myself a fraud, an imposter, and a sham.
Above all, I get frustrated because my brain (not stifled by any keyboard) generates streams of thoughts faster than I can solidify them on the screen- I am excruciatingly slow and inaccurate on my phone as well. So I carry a notebook around.
Nevertheless, I will continue to write. How can I not.
Writing manifests me in this words, it materializes me.
“I think, therefore I am” -René Descartes
Share with me (if you are comfortable) your embarrassing story, so we can all let go and embrace our quirks.